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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056918">Ache</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleaflofloyd/pseuds/fleaflofloyd'>fleaflofloyd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call the Midwife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:49:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleaflofloyd/pseuds/fleaflofloyd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Well, that was inevitable.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lucille sighs and shakes her head.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She listens to Val snore, louder and louder each time.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"You're lucky I love you, otherwise I would've smothered you with my pillow by now."</i>
</p><p>----</p><p>Sequel to the 'I never thought...' chapters, but a prequel to 'Beds, Baths and Black Cakes'.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucille Anderson/Valerie Dyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>----</p><p>With 21/08/20's announcement of Jen Kirby's decision to leave the show, I'm not sure if or when there might be more of the 'I never thought...' series. I'm pretty gutted, to say the least. Maybe I might have a future fic in me. Maybe not.</p><p>This particular piece of writing involves scenes of a physically sick person. Certain words are used briefly, but they're there. If that squidges you out, please take care.</p><p>Comments are welcome, as usual. Thanks for taking the time to read my pieces over the last few months. It's been a great restoration in my self-esteem.</p><p>Cheers.</p><p>----</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Cohabitation with Valerie Jane Dyer has its advantages.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille can come home after a long day or night of work and know Valerie understands. That she knows the intricacies of birth and death and caring for the community, and how that can weigh. A hug or a kind word can be offered on a bad day. A laugh and a smile can be shared on a good one.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille knows she can shut their bedroom door and leave the world behind. Let Valerie become the centre of her attention as the rest of everything falls away. She can kiss her, hold her, for as long or as short as she wants, safe in the intimacy they've created. It replenishes her soul, similar to the way church always had. Seeing Valerie and being nourished by her presence means she can sidestep the possibility of...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Well, it's more than a possibility.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She'd gone to Pastor Palmer's prayer meeting two Sundays into January, her mind needing an outlet for all the emotion she felt. Valerie had started to get restless, and her propensity to grin and bear it had made conversation about her injuries and her pain level difficult at best, non-existent at worst. Mother Mildred visiting the patient every few days had done nothing but make Val clam up further, desperate to put on a brave face in front of her superior in the hope that her job would remain hers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So Lucille had made her way west on the bus, certain a little singing and praying would do her good. Would help her help Valerie.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She'd caught a puzzling glance from Diedre Wallace as she'd tearfully explained how Valerie was doing to the group after Mrs Palmer had so kindly asked after her. Her emotions had been a little too close to the surface, veering her into unfamiliar territory before she'd even comprehended the issue.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That perplexed look from a lovely friend, who had only ever shown her kindness and warmth up until that point, had worried her. Mrs Palmer would ask again after Valerie the next week, and the next, because she genuinely cared, because it was what good Christians did, and it was only going to get harder to answer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The feelings she had for Valerie, that she'd debated and finally accepted, were already shining through in that neat front room. She'd felt them in her heart, with her stockinged feet along the plush new carpet, her bible in her hands. They were going to become a bigger part of her life, as her companion's bones healed and her mind settled.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hadn't wanted to tuck it away in order to stifle the possible questions forming in other people's minds. Her breakup with Cyril was likely to become another confusing turn of events, another thing to be asked about. Something to sway a thought process.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So she'd simply never gone back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Mrs Palmer had come to the clinic for a check-up in late February, pregnant again in her first trimester, but had been polite enough to let the subject of Lucille's absence slide. <i>"The Lord takes us where we need to go,"</i> she'd said kindly before the conversation had turned to morning sickness and cravings.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He <em>had</em> taken her where she'd needed to go.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>To the place beside Valerie.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She'd sidestepped from that meeting to prayer with the Sisters and to a love that offered her a similar and just as fulfilling enlightenment. Valerie gives her love and care and belief in the future.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's unconditional, and worthy of Him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's so incredibly grateful to the Lord for getting--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The bed squeaks suddenly, startling Lucille back to the present.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie has rolled over in her sleep onto her back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Well, that was inevitable.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille sighs and shakes her head.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She listens to Val snore, louder and louder each time.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're lucky I love you, otherwise I would've smothered you with my pillow by now."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie makes a half grunting sound, seemingly in reply, and Lucille chuckles to herself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There are disadvantages to loving Valerie Jane Dyer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>No.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Just the one.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille rolls away towards her bedside table, hand searching for the balls of wax she has for this very problem. She pushes them into her ears and settles back down, closing her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She can still hear her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nothing new.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She opens her eyes and lifts a hand to nudge Val.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Roll over, precious."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie grumbles, but does so, the bed squeaking again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her snoring lowers into a heavy sort of breathing, much gentler on Lucille's blocked ears.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Thank You.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Thank You for bringing me to her.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Thank You for giving me the strength to love her.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She will never be able to repay Him for it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille falls asleep thinking of ways to try to.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She wakes the next morning with a heavy head and an aching in her ear, the bed empty beside her. Valerie is likely already downstairs, burning their toast.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She tugs the wax from her ears and moves to sit up, sliding around to set her feet on the floor.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She feels the heaviness in her sinuses shift and knows she might be on her way to a cold.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Fantastic.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>At least it's Friday.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She can sleep in a little tomorrow, and hopefully get rid of whatever this is.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's not until the middle of the afternoon, when little Hiresh Butala comes screeching into the world, that she realises how much her ear and head are aching. The panadol from the morning has worn off, as has the distraction of nursing Mrs Butala through her six-hour labour.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She should get home, but there's the afterbirth and the cleaning to do, and making sure the Butala's have everything they need.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's at least another hour and a half's worth of care.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's going to have to use the panadol in her nursing--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Are you alright, Nurse?" Mrs Butala asks, carefully rocking little Hiresh in her arms.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille smiles at her and nods. "Just a slight headache, nothing for you to worry about."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stands up from the bed, feeling the sensation of unsteadiness on her feet.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There's no way she'll be able to ride home if the feeling persists.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Mr Butala offers to call someone, but she smiles again through the low thrumming, assuring him she's well enough to get back to Nonnatus. They're both distracted and enamoured enough with their new arrival that they let it be, Lucille pleased she's managed to help them through her discomfort.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She walks back slowly, stopping every so often to rest against a wall, breathing through her light-headedness. More than one concerned mother checks in on her, but she straightens her back and bluffs her way past them, determined to make it home in one piece.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Someone must call Nonnatus, however, because she sees Fred's van appear up the street, the sun lower in the sky than she's realised.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie is there with her walking stick as Fred takes her bicycle from her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Tell me," Val says quietly, arm already around her waist in support.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"That's my line," Lucille says, leaning on her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Not funny, Luce--how bad is it?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Five."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Okay, it's okay--" Valerie walks with her, "--we'll just get you home and you can rest."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She throws up on the way back, the motion of the van too much for her dizziness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val holds her steady above the gutter, the other hand rubbing soft circles on her back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sorry," she gets out, spitting the vile taste away as her head swims.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No need to apologise, chick," Val replies quietly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille leans back into her, closing her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Let's get you home," Val says, already moving to help her stand, smoothing her hair down over her scar at the same time.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's a nervous tic Lucille knows very well.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fred is there and Val can't offer her any more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The comfort will have to wait.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"When did you start feeling poorly?" Trixie asks as she and Valerie help her up the stairs.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"When I woke my ear was aching, but I was--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You should've told me," Val says, shaking her head. "That's something you're..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She doesn't finish the sentence.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie sighs. "I wish you two would know that you can speak freely with one another in my presence."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There's a moment of silence, potent.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille's head is throbbing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Its a habit, Trix," Val says as they reach the upstairs hallway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's personal," Lucille whispers, knowing that--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>No. She's said it wrong.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's not personal," she says again. "I mean, actually, both are correct, it's just--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Seems our patient is losing her marbles, Nurse Dyer."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It would seem so, Nurse Franklin."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their sudden amusement is not helping.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Don't pick on me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Okay, boss," Val says lightly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Will do, boss.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille's mind flashes back to the scalpel and the blood, so much--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her stomach lurches.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm gonna be sick again--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's quickly diverted to the bathroom, where she vomits up even less into the toilet bowl, her body convulsing with the need, but not with the contents.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Easy there, soldier," Val coos quietly, those careful circles rubbed into her back again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>She's here. She's fine. You can feel her.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille looks up to find her close, poised to help. To comfort. There's a wadding of toilet paper in her hands that she brings up to pat Lucille's cheeks and forehead with.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille huffs when Valerie misses getting it in the bowl.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're a foot away, how could you miss that?" Trixie says, appearing with a wet facecloth.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh hush, you..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille sits up carefully, head still dazed, feeling Valerie slip in closer behind her. Her left leg is bent, drawn up under the other, in what has to be...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Is your leg okay like that?" Lucille asks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val straightens it out awkwardly beside her. "It's my turn to take care of you now--lay back, chick."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She does as she's told, head settling on a steady shoulder, strong arms circling her waist.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Neither movement bothers Trixie, their friend sitting beside them to begin removing Lucille's makeup.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's refreshingly cold on her skin and she closes her eyes to the softness of it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Can I speak freely, Val?" she whispers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She feels Val stiffen ever so slightly, before seeming to relax.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She needs to--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What is it, Lu?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You snore."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hears Trixie laugh quietly. "I am very much aware of that terrible fact Lucille, there's no need to keep that one from me. Whether Valerie knows is the--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I know," her love retorts. "Believe me, I know."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They're both speaking gently to help her. She feels a surge of love for them both in the silence.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val taps her thumb against Lucille's stomach. "That's not what you were going to say."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It wasn't.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She'd aimed for lightness, willing to make Val the butt of the joke, to keep her mind from that night.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Will do, boss.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille sighs and swallows, the terrible aftertaste still in her mouth.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie is still wiping her face gently, long clean, simply for the comfort now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She needs to say it now, while she's able to.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The night you were hit--before, I asked you to save me a slice of the Christmas pudding and you said, 'Will do, boss'. It just..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stills her tongue.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The dots connect in the silence around her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie stops her motions. Lucille opens her eyes to find her staring down at the cloth in thought.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The arms around her tighten, Val sighing near her ear.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It sends you back there, doesn't it?" Her voice is impossibly sorrowed with guilt.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It does."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She feels a gentle kiss at her ear. "I won't say it again."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie looks up and gives her a sad smile. "Neither shall I. I'll make sure the others know."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille closes her eyes and breathes, the ache slipping through her body to her chest.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's been meaning to say something about it for six months.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Perhaps this pain has an upside to it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's surely said it at least four times since...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>You stupid idiot.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie sighs loudly, her fingers working at the buttons of Lucille's uniform as Trixie holds her steady in their room.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Tomorrow is Saturday at least," her friend says. "We can cover you in the afternoon and onto Sunday if need be."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'll be fine after some sleep," Lucille says quietly, convincing no one.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're taking the weekend," Val tells her firmly. "Arms up now."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val slides the uniform up off her, noting the heavy way in which Lucille's arms fall back down. Exhaustion is starting to set into her. She's blinking more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Poor thing.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val knows she needs to speed up her work.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie gives her a nod, understanding.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The two of them dispense with Lucille's stockings, girdle and undergarments, slipping her pajamas on.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Reckon that was a world record," she says, her arms wrapping around Lucille as Trixie draws her blankets down the bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gol' medal to both of you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's fading already, leaning heavily into Valerie.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Nearly there," Val assures her as she eases them both into a seated position on the bed. "Can you do her hair, Trix?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course, sweetie."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She sits down behind them and begins pulling bobby pins away from Lucille's updo.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're a lifesaver."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val watches as Trixie shakes her head.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"There's only one of them in this room, and it's neither of us."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille's weight drops fully onto her shoulder, a tell-tale sign she's asleep. Val breathes her in, trying not to think of that hospital bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She distracts herself with saying, "Well, you're wrong there, since we're all nurses."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"True," Trixie says, smiling softly at her. "Although I think her efforts that night probably get her the gold medal."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val agrees but doesn't reply.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie gauges her quietness and turns her full attention on her task.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There's a long moment of silence between the two of them, before:</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"So...we can either talk about how long Lucille's hair has gotten--" Trixie holds out a curl of it, "--or we can talk about what she said so you don't spend the night stewing over it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don't stew."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh come on, Val--you know you do." Trixie pulls another bobby pin out. "Gold medal-worthy amounts of stewing are going to be taking place."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val shakes her head. "She's the one that sat on that comment for..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stops and sighs, pulling Lucille closer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm not a mind reader, Trix."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You don't need to be, sweetie."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"But I do...I used to be able to read her so well last year, before..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Everything.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She knows instinctively if I'm off, or worried, or having a bad day," she adds. "It's not fair to her that I can't do the same. She was unwell and I was too busy scraping the burnt bits off our toast to notice."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You care for her, love her, in your own way. Through your actions."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's not enough, though." Val blinks at the sudden water in her eyes. "I've said a variation of that thing, trying to be funny and all I've done is hurt her."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"But there's no intention behind it." Trixie looks at her. "You can't tell me that's as bad as deliberately trying to hurt her. You're incapable of it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I was in our fight--wanted her to feel as bad as I felt."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie sets another bobby pin down on the growing pile. "That's done, Val. You talked your way through it and made it to the other side with her. You need to learn from this as well, and then let it go."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val knows she needs to.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I can't bear seeing her hurt," she adds, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Seeing her unwell."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie carefully brushes out Lucille's curls with her fingers. "You owe her some discomfort."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie huffs. "I'll never live my accident down, will I?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie smiles. "Every day you're still with us is you living it down, but no, I'll always give you grief for it. I think I've got all the pins."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie sets them on the bedside table and stands out of the way. Val eases Lucille back, carefully laying her down on the bed. Lucille stirs a little, but seemingly melts into the pillow, stilling once more. Val lifts her legs around and pulls the blankets up over her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Come have a cuppa downstairs," Trixie coaxes, hand drawing up to her forearm.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If it's all the same, I think I'll sit up here for a bit before dinner."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course." Trixie steps around the bed, before turning back with, "No stewing, okay? She'll be fine in a day or two."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val certainly hopes so.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The door clicks shut, and Val bends down to kiss Lucille's forehead, hand brushing her cheek.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I love you," she whispers against her skin.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille sleeps on, unaware.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her own bed squeaks when she goes to sit on it, Val wincing at the sound and immediately getting back up, eyes on Lucille.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stirs, and Val holds her breath.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Please.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille settles once more, and Val exhales in relief.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She cannot sleep on that tonight if Lucille is to rest. Her love is too much of a light sleeper to bear that kind of noise.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>You need to fix the stupid thing.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She doesn't know how to.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And she can't ask.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They'll know.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So she limps to the other side of the room and picks up the armchair, carrying it to Lucille's side near the door.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She settles into it, her eyes falling to Lucille's bedside table.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The wax balls sit square in the middle of a small glass dish.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She doesn't need to second guess what they're for.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>She's unwell because of your snoring.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val closes her eyes at the wave of guilt that hits her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She can't do anything about that either.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sleep doesn't come easy to her, propped up in the chair.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Heaven knows she's spent enough time elevated on beds, waiting for her ribs and scars to heal, to be used to this.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Apparently not.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille's pain worsens as Saturday drags on. Val can see it etched all over her face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr Turner arrives late in the day, just as Lucille is throwing up her dry biscuits.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well, that's no good," he says calmly, sitting down on the side of the bed as Val deposits the bucket in Phyllis's waiting hands.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hovers in the hallway, trying to give them some space, but still feeling the need to stay close. Her leg is aching, but she suspects it's more psychological today, more of a sign of her worry for Lucille than anything else.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Phyllis appears again, handing back the empty bucket.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Have you taken anything yourself?" she asks, eyeing the heavy grip Val has on the handle of her cane.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nothing escapes her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie shakes her head. "This is my fault. She wouldn't need those flaming wax plugs if I didn't snore."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Nurse Franklin has likened it to a locomotive in a steel barn before. I would have to agree."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Phyllis gives her a comforting small smile. Val's frustration rushes out of her as a result, a huff escaping her lips.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She may be unwell as a consequence of your heavy breathing, but you're not to blame. Your care for one another is exceptional."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val looks down at the bucket, knowing she's supposed to be...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Discreet</em> was the word Sister Julienne used four months ago.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She knows Phyllis knows. Lucille had told her so, early on in their relationship, when they were using every excuse to escape upstairs to the privacy of their room.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It had seemed as close to heaven as she imagined the place would be.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It still felt that way.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Right now, though...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I can't talk about it, Phyllis--not with..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Someone who doesn't know so close.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course, lass."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Silence settles over them as they wait, hearing the Doctor and Lucille's conversation float through to the hallway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He appears, closing the door quietly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Lucille has a cold, but she's also suffering from an ear infection as well, that looks to be bacterial. I've taken a sample, so we'll see if she can be administered antibiotics. Right now, my main concern is the vomiting and vertigo. I've left her with some anti-nausea medication, she's just had a dose but she needs to take them three or four times a day. It would be helpful for her to keep up the panadol intake as well until I get some results. The cold is likely to get worse, so lets keep her fluids up and stick with the bland food. She's going to need a significant amount of rest, a week at least."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We can manage without her for as long as she needs." Phyllis turns her attention to Valerie. "I suggest you start getting some extra fruit and vegetables into you, we don't need you coming down with something now that you're spleenless. There are plenty of brussels sprouts left at the dinner table for you to have."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie screws up her face. "I'd rather catch something."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Phyllis shakes her head. "The other option is you bunking in with Nurse Franklin and I."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Okay, okay, I'll eat them."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr Turner adds, "It's important you stay well, Nurse Dyer. I doubt Nurse Anderson would forgive herself if something happened to you again."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The statement catches her off guard, her eyes widening at his close observation.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She holds you in considerable regard, Valerie," he continues. "I suggest you honour that."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There's a moment of silence between the three of them, Val feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Surely he knows about them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"When will you have results?" Phyllis asks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The tension in her chest eases with her friend's question, and she exhales, letting his answer float past her recognition.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Phyllis politely directs him away down the hall, Sister Julienne's name mentioned, leaving Val alone to process the conversation.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He can't possibly...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It isn't something that immediately crosses people's minds. Not without some prior justification, or confirmation.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie had told her in the hospital that she'd worked it out because she'd seen the same kind of devotion between Patsy and Delia. That Val lifting her mattress before the accident had betrayed a secrecy that reminded her of the redhead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille had said Phyllis knew because she'd let a declaration of love slip on the edge of exhaustion, while Val's life had been in the balance. She'd likely seen how Delia was with Patsy too.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Did Dr Turner have a suspicion about them as well? They'd left town together. Had sent multiple letters back to Phyllis, and Christmas cards, displayed on the mantel for all to see.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille had broken down in February in front of Nurse Turner as well, over that medical journal. Dr Turner had let her bring it home.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val sighs heavily.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Perhaps she's too close to it to think objectively.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They've been careful outside the Nonnatus walls. They've maintained a friendly distance at the clinic. They've done everything in their power to keep it quiet, to keep it to themselves. Their one hiccup had come during the fight, when their heated exchange had travelled beyond their bedroom; beyond that, they've been professional and level headed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's hers to hold onto, and she's going to do everything in her power to keep it safe. After all the grief of last year, she deserves a little bit of happiness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val shakes her head, and steps toward the door.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille looks her way from her propped up position as the clanging of the bucket against the wooden frame makes her wince.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sorry--I'm a bull in a china shop."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She sets the bucket down near her love and her stick against the bedside table and eases herself down onto the side of the bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hmm, more like an elephant, I think."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val takes in the engaged light in tired brown eyes and smiles quietly. "I'm gonna take that as a compliment," she whispers, "even though it could go either way."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille sighs and closes her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val knows by her squinting that she's dealing with a sudden pain.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The damp washcloth is on the middle bedside table, on the other side of the bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie stands as quietly as she can and limps there, resitting near Lucille's arm. She takes the cloth, folding it into a rectangle, as Lucille draws a hand up to set it in the crook of her elbow.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Did this help?" Val asks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It won't hurt," is the quiet reply.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She holds three knuckles to Lucille's forehead, feeling the warmth there.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The fever has set in.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She sets the cloth on Lucille's skin, praying it'll ease her suffering.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thanks, precious." Lucille squeezes her arm and closes her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're welcome." Val chuckles softly, setting her hand over Lucille's. "I've always liked you calling me that."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Good...I plan to do it for a very long time."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her heart skips a beat. "I'd like that."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille hums, eyes staying closed. "Did you know female elephants stay together but the males leave the herd?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I did not know that...sounds very similar to our current living arrangement with the Sisters."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille chuckles. "They're called cows too, while the boys are bulls--the elephants, not the Sisters." She laughs some more, despite looking pained. "You were really a cow in a china shop."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val rolls her eyes and squeezes Lucille's hand again. "Consistently noisy, that's me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her voice drops at the end, and she knows for sure Lucille's heard it too.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Brown eyes open, Lucille's focus a little delayed in finding her. Her gaze has softened, nonetheless.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You know, my mother told me I was a terrible sleeper as a baby. Never gave her a full nights rest until I was nearly fifteen months. Made me late for everything, sitting up, crawling, my first steps..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille pauses, adjusting her head; it's clear that a new wave of pain is affecting her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val taps her thumb against her hand and speaks softly, "Hey, how 'bout you tell me later--you need to be resting."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Let me finish, Val."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She says nothing, sighing instead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"So this inability to turn my mind off, to stay asleep, has been with me from the start. Being poorly is just as much my fault as it is yours. So stop blaming yourself."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val looks down at their hands. "You know I will, no matter what you say."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Then think of it from my point of view," Lucille says, her fingers sliding to thread through Val's. "<em>No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable...pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel forever its soft fall and swell...</em>"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val recognises Keats, looking up to find Lucille's eyes, tired and pained, still searching for her, to care for and love.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It makes her ache.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>Awake forever in a sweet unrest, Still, s-still...</em>"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The word catches on Lucille's tongue, and Val sinks forward, watching as water rushes forward in her love's eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hey, hey--none of that now..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>S-still, s-still to hear her t-tender-taken b-breath--</em>"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille loses it then, crying out.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val brushes the face cloth away, gently gathering her up in her arms. "I'm here, I'm here--ssh, ssh, oh my <em>precious</em> girl..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She holds her tightly, mind falling through a set of memories as she blinks at her tears. Lucille is in every single one, seared into her memory:</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"You were hit by a car--you've been..."</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"You nearly...you nearly..."</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"You nearly DIED in my arms! Don't you EVER tell me to just get over it! I had to cut into you--I had to sit in that chair knowing I loved you as I was losing you. You don't get to take the high road..."</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Fireworks fizzing and booming and shimmering the world's colours in her eyes.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She aches and aches from it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But she needs to do her best to dull the pain Lucille feels.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm here, and I'm not going away," she whispers, her hand stroking Lucille's hair. "I'll be breathing beside you, for as long as you'll have me, okay? Goodness knows it'll be loud sometimes, but I guess it just means I'm still with you, right?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val rocks her gently, kissing her just above the ear, as Lucille's cries continue to sound.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's unwell, and emotional.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val knows its a terrible combination.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If I could sing like you, I probably would right now, but I don't think we need to add that travesty against the human race onto you now, hmm?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hears a strangled half laugh from her love, and chuckles to herself, pulling her tighter to her chest.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I think...in that moment, when I didn't know what was what from the grief--" Val's voice cracks, and she swallows it down, "--your voice got through to me, took the suffocating weight from my chest so I could manage a breath...so I could take another, and then one more..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her tears spill down her cheeks at the recollection of Lucille singing to her on the hardest day of her life.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They spill for the one she still can't remember properly, the coloured and explosive snap of a car in the middle of monochrome etchings gathered from Lucille, her mother and her friends.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You helped me breathe...so many times I've lost count. I wouldn't be here without you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Lucille's breath hitches and she squeezes Valerie impossibly close.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val kisses her head, again and again, continuing to sway her softly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's a long time before she feels Lucille settle deeply against her in sleep.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val holds her long after that as well.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"How's our patient doing?" Phyllis asks her at the dining table, pointedly handing the Brussels sprouts bowl to her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val reluctantly dishes out three of the little sods onto her plate, frowning.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She's resting now...it's been a bit of a struggle today, to be honest. For me, at least."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her openness seems to surprise a few of them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trixie's hand finds her arm, settling there in support. "I'll sit with her for a bit tonight, give you a break."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She's not a burden, I just...its been a long day."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sister Julienne says, "Perhaps a bit of reflection might help--you are welcome to attend compline if you so wish. It may ease your concern of Nurse Anderson."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Valerie looks down at the bowl of sprouts in her hand, wondering if she'll be able to stomach any more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She needs something.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Compline helps.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It surprises her how much.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's probably on the wrong side of tired to be making such enlightening proclamations, but it's only to herself, so she figures she'll let it go.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe she can give God or mother nature or the universe some wiggle room tonight.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>---</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She was insistent on saying her prayers," Trixie says in the upstairs hallway when Val comes back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Trix--she's <em>sick</em>."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val opens the door to find Lucille, bent at the knees, hands clasped together with her elbows on the bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She looks up at her, steadfast certainty in her eyes, despite swaying slightly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You should be in bed Lu," Val gently says, shutting the door.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I didn't do this last night, and I have too much to be grateful for." Lucille closes her eyes against a clear dizzy spell.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val steps around the bed, with every intention to persuade Lucille back into it. Her plan goes astray when Lucille reaches up and pulls her down beside her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her knees crack with the effort, and her calf muscle stings. Lucille is leaning into her, propping herself up along her side, so Valerie ignores the pain.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If he's as merciful as you say he is, he'll let you have the time off."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I made Him a promise, and I intend to keep it. Now, be a dear and keep me upright so I can thank Him."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val sighs, and sets a hand around her love.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She watches Lucille's face patiently, quietly observing her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe, just maybe, she can do this as well.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I don't know if you're real or not, or if the universe has a plan so to speak but...I'm glad I'm still here. Thank you for letting her save my life.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Val takes in Lucille's quiet, reflecting demeanour and knows for certain what she's grateful for.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Thank you for her.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Wiggle room, and all that.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><p>----</p>
  </div></div>
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